


Man In the High Castle: One Shots

by Raissi (Rheila)



Category: The Man in the High Castle (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Short One Shot, writing prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-10-01
Packaged: 2019-07-08 06:19:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 1,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15924638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rheila/pseuds/Raissi
Summary: A series of (mostly) unrelated short one shots set in the Man In the High Castle universe as a response to writing prompts. Feel free to leave me a prompt as well!





	1. I Never Meant for This

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt 1: Someone has a long-overdue apology to make, but it’s up to the other person to decide whether they’ll accept it or not. (300 words)  
> Prompt 2: Solitude can be a much-needed break or it can be hell. How does your character feel about being alone today? (100 word drabble)

“Helen…” John’s voice had never before sounded so small.

His wife still had her back to him, and replied not with her words, but with a strangled noise somewhere between a grunt and a sob.

“Helen please,” John begged, “I never meant for this to happen. You have to know that. Thomas, he…” this time it was John’s turn to choke up as he faced the crushing reality that his son was gone.

He took a step forward, needing to touch her, but she just wrapped her arms tighter around herself and he stopped. “If you’d never gone to Berlin,” she accused.

“If I hadn’t gone to Berlin, we would be at war, Helen.”

“So what.”

“So what?”

This time his wife whirled around to face him. Her eyes were puffy and red from days of crying. “You heard me,” she replied. “So what! My sweet, sweet boy,” she shook her head. “He’d still be here. He’d still be alive. If you hadn’t gone to Berlin he never would have…” tears wracked her body again and John couldn’t even dare to imagine how it had been for her watching their son walk out that door and turn himself in to the health authority.

“Helen, I’m sorry.” What else could he say.

“Sorry isn’t going to bring my boy back!” Helen spat.

“He was my son too,” John reminded her quietly.

His wife made a “harrumph,” and turned her back on him once more, staring blankly across the room as if by distancing him she could somehow keep her despair at bay.

John lowered his head and sighed in defeat. Perhaps one day she would see that he hadn’t meant for any of this, and all he had ever done was try to protect his family. But that day was not today.

John made his way upstairs, closing the bathroom door behind him. As he stared at himself in the mirror he had to brace his hands on the sink. The face that stared back at him was not the stoically calm one he projected to the rest of the world. It was a face of a man who was exhausted, grieving, and scared.

He had needed Helen. He had needed to touch her and hold her. He had needed her to understand. But even though his wife was downstairs in the living room, he was more alone than he’d ever been.

He had saved the world from war, but he could no more reach his wife than he could save his son. With that, John let go of the sink, sank to the floor and wept.


	2. Getting Out of Dodge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Platonic, romantic, or purely professional, these two characters make an odd couple. How they each respond to an unexpected problem only highlights their differences. (400 words)

“Don’t worry about it, it will be fine,” Ed assured his co-conspirator.

“Fine? Fine?!” Robert asked, his voice rising in pitch as he wound himself tighter and tighter. “Please explain to me in what universe this would be considered fine?”

Ed looked down at what was supposed to be their easiest forgery yet: a set of brass campaign buttons from the last ever American presidential campaign. It was stupid easy, at least it was supposed to have been.

“These,” Robert paced anxiously, “these, these are terrible!” he exclaimed.

Ed couldn’t disagree.

“What are we going to do?” Robert asked panicked. “The buyer is going to be here in,” he glanced down at his watch, “in less than an hour! Need I remind you what happens if we don’t make this sale?”

Ed didn’t need a reminder. The Kempeitei would be onto them soon enough, and after being robbed of all the precious artifacts Robert had insisted they take with them instead of anything actually useful, they needed the funds to get the remainder of the way to the Neutral Zone.

“Relax, we’ll think of something,” Ed assured him.

“Relax?” Robert repeated almost frantically, “Oh yes, I feel so much better now.”

Ed frowned. If Frank were here he could have fixed the pins, but Ed wasn’t the artist he had been. The thought of his friend made his insides twist and chest tighten painfully. Frank had always been there for him, and now he didn’t know what he was going to do without him.

“Pray tell,” Robert's voice cut gratingly across his thoughts. “Do you have any plan for what this _something_ might be, because if we don’t come up with something soon…”

There was no way that he could fix them, not in the time they had left. Looking down at the mess he’d created, Ed sighed. “We scuff them up,” he suggested. “Make them almost unrecognizable.”

“I’m sure _that’s_ going to help,” Robert said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Almost, but not quite,” Ed continued.

“I don’t know where you’re going with this.”

Ed shrugged his shoulders. “We only need to make enough to cover bus fare to get us out of this place and feed us for a couple of days until we figure things out,” he explained. “My work, it’s not as good as…” the two stared at each other for a moment, the death of Ed’s friend hanging between them. He stifled the tears that threatened to brim over. “Look, there’s enough there they could be passable if we rough them up enough. We sell them at a steep discount, whatever we can get for them and we get the hell out of here before the Kempeitei finds us.”

Robert seemed to consider his proposition, before finally relenting. “You’d better hope this works!”


	3. Heartfelt Condolences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the right context and from the right person, a single touch can mean more than many words. (100 word drabble)

One of the secretaries from his department - what was her name? He couldn’t recall at the moment, the wiry red-headed one from down the hall - knocked hesitantly at his half-open door.

John closed his eyes and groaned to himself. Whatever paperwork she shuffled anxiously in her hands was surely unimportant. As he choked out a “come in,” he silently damned the world for demanding normallacy from him after all that had happened.

After all that he’d lost.

“The minutes,” she said, almost apologetically as she handed them over. “From when you were away in Berlin.”

John nodded and hastily grabbed them without a word.

She didn’t leave.

“I… I’m really sorry about what happened to your son.”

Every muscle in John’s body went stiff. His face twitched and he raised his chin slightly in response as he stared straight ahead. It wasn’t as if everyone didn’t know - word travelled fast. It was just that most either avoided him, or at least avoided the topic.

The woman took a step closer and laid a hand gently on his arm. Her pale blue eyes held his. “It’s okay to grieve, you know.” 

A lump formed in his throat as the warmth and caring of this almost-stranger’s touch caught him off guard, and for the briefest moment John wished what she’d said was true. But it wasn’t. Not for him. John jerked his arm away. “Don’t you have work to do?” he hissed. 

“I…” she stammered.

“Well, go!” John barked gruffly.

“Of course, Oberstgruppenfuhrer. I’m sorry.” The woman turned and scuttled through the door. John closed it swiftly behind her and leaned his back against the cold, hard surface as he crumbled.


	4. Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A character awakens from a dream or a nightmare and wants to describe it to the first person they see. (100 word drabble)

Helen awoke with tears streaming down her face. “Thomas,” she breathed, and for a moment it all felt like some horrible nightmare, but then the memories came flooding back. Memories of them taking her boy away and it was a thousand times worse than her dream because it was real. 

She sat up and tucked her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them. She did not want to wake John, who slept peacefully beside her, so she buried her face in her arms and tried to muffle her grief-stricken sobs.

“Helen?” John asked groggily as he began to stir.

A strangled noise escaped her throat as the tears wracked her body once more.

In an instant John was alert and sitting next to her. “Helen, what is it? What’s wrong?”

But she couldn’t answer.

“It was that nightmare again, wasn’t it?” 

Helen nodded, unable to speak.

“Oh Helen,” John cooed, and his strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his body. She let herself melt into him, letting his warmth envelop her and make her feel safe.

“Every time I close my eyes it’s all I see, John” Helen admitted. “Over and over again, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

John stroked her hair and held her tight while she recalled the horrors that so often visited her.

“And then they come for me and the girls, and…” Helen shook violently in his arms.

“It’s okay. You’re safe, Helen. Our girls are safe,” he assured her as he had so many times since Thomas had been taken. He took her face in his hands and kissed her. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I swear on my life.” 


	5. Time Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This character is burned out - spiritually, emotionally, and/or physically. They can’t go another step today. Alone or with help, they need time and space to recuperate. Fluffy or angsty - you choose! (500 words)

There was a hesitant knock at the door. At first it didn’t even register until John heard Erich’s uncertain voice on the other side, “Oberstgruppenfuhrer?”

John stole one more second to compose himself before opening the door and allowing him into his office. “What is it, Erich?” he asked gruffly, hoping his subordinate would not noticed the red around his eyes or the slight crack in his voice.

“Sir, I…” Erich paused awkwardly. “I mean, perhaps you- sorry sir, I…”

“Just spit it out, Erich,” John grumbled impatiently.

“Maybe you should take the rest of the day off, Sir.”

“I see,” John nodded, his eyes trying to discern Erich’s thoughts. He was still rattled from his last encounter.  “Are you suggesting I”m not capable of doing my duties?” he asked.

“Of course not, Sir,” Erich answered earnestly, “it’s just, with everything that happened with Thomas, it can’t be easy. Klemm and I can take care of things for the rest of the afternoon. Even for a few days, if that’s what you need.”

John didn’t know what was worse: having to confront the sympathy of those who acknowledged Thomas’s death and thus face the reality of his situation, or the uncomfortable pretense of normality that made him want to scream out at the world that Thomas was his son, and he had loved him, and lost him. Yet his position would not allow him such.

 Erich waited expectantly, and as John studied his face which was free of any malice or judgement, he felt his own apprehension slip away. Maybe the younger man was right. John hadn’t taken a day since he’d returned from Berlin, not to rest or recuperate, not to console his wife, not to care for his daughters, not to grieve his son.

“Yes Erich, I think I might,” John mused. “You’re sure you can take care of things?” He knew well enough that Erich was capable. Erich was very capable, and there wasn’t anyone he would trust more, yet he asked anyways.

“Yes, Oberstgruppenfuhrer.”

“You’ll call me if there are any problems?” Erich nodded. “Right away,” John added.

“Yes, of course.”

John nodded thoughtfully. “Okay then.”

A relieved smile crept across Erich’s face and John felt a small burden lift from his shoulders.


End file.
